Unplugged: Three Days Without The Internet.

Could the Entire Internet Be Shut Down Forever?

Day One: The Slow Collapse

One morning, I turned on my Mac Mini. It booted up fine, but the screen was blank.

No flicker, no buffering wheel of death, no little WiFi symbol struggling to connect. Just silence. The internet was gone.

I stared at the screen, confused. Maybe the router needed a reset? I unplugged it. Waited. Plugged it back in. Still nothing.

Fine. I’d check my phone.

No signal.

AT&T was down too?

That’s when I noticed the TV—a black void. My fifty-two-inch Sony Bravia wouldn’t stream. No YouTube deep dives. No sumo wrestling highlights. No guy whispering into a microphone while restoring a 300-year-old sword. No street food tours of Pyongyang.

I told myself this was a good thing. A break. A reset. A chance to step back from the machine.

That lasted about an hour.

Then the withdrawal kicked in.

I tried to read. The book felt heavy in my hands, the pages dry. Five minutes in, I instinctively reached for my phone to look something up—a quick fact about the author, whether he was still alive.

Nothing.

I looked at my phone like a man expecting a response from a corpse. I checked again. Still nothing.

The silence wasn’t just absence—it had weight. It crept into the corners of the room, pressed against my ribs, filled the spaces where music, voices, notifications should have been.

I went outside. The air smelled the same, but something felt off. I realized it was just me.

By the afternoon, I had started checking my phone out of reflex. A muscle memory, a nervous tic. Like an ex-smoker reaching for a cigarette that isn’t there.

I paced. Rearranged my books—alphabetically, then by color, then by which books felt like they belonged next to each other.

I scrubbed the sink like it had personally wronged me.

I stared at the ceiling for twenty minutes.

I picked up a dictionary and seriously considered reading it.

Time stretched, slow and cruel.

The withdrawal had begun.

Day Two: Losing My Mind in Real Time

I woke up and checked my phone before my brain even processed why.

Still no WiFi. No data. No lifeline.

I turned it over and set it down.

Two minutes later, I picked it up again. Maybe it was back?

No.

A creeping sense of irrelevance set in. What’s happening out there? What have I missed? The mind plays tricks. It whispers that something important must have happened—some world-shifting event that everyone now knew… except me.

I tried to work.

Hemingway didn’t have the internet, I told myself. He wrote on paper. Drank heavily. Lived.

But I was not Hemingway.

I started writing a piece about the start of baseball’s Spring Training, a time I usually looked forward to. But I needed dates. When did Grapefruit League games begin? When did the Cactus League start? Good thing I wasn’t on a deadline.

Writing without the internet felt like performing surgery with a butter knife… in the dark… with one hand tied behind my back.

Every sentence led to a dead end. Every idea collapsed under the weight of uncertainty.

By evening, I had read the washing machine manual cover to cover. I made dinner in silence—no music, no background noise. The food tasted like cardboard.

For the first time in years, I felt the weight of every passing second.

Day Three: The Shift

Something changed.

The world had not ended. The sky had not fallen. My lungs filled and emptied, like always.

I let go.

No internet? So what? The sun still rose. The birds still existed. I still existed.

I wrote without researching. The baseball piece could wait. I turned to fiction, let my brain wander. The words came easier.

On a whim, I went to the closet and pulled out my old analog stereo system—the one I had kept as a reminder of how much better music sounded before the MP3 came along and flattened everything.

I set it up, dropped the needle, and for the first time in years, I really listened.

Not as background noise. Not while scrolling through something else. Just me and the music.

Time slowed.

Not as punishment, but as a gift.

Day Four: The Inevitable Relapse

The WiFi flickered back to life that morning. The modem hummed, lights flashing in rhythm.

I looked at my phone.

The messages flooded in. Emails. Notifications. Missed calls.

I took a breath.

And then, like a fool, I opened twenty tabs.

Did I reflect and savor my newfound clarity? Did I ease back in with mindfulness and moderation?

No.

We are junkies, all of us. Scrolling, clicking, consuming, devouring.

For three days, I had been clean.

Now? I was back. Plugged in. Wired up. Scrolling into oblivion.

I figured I would unplug again. Someday.

But first… I needed to check my email.

And the news.

And that new video about a guy restoring a medieval helmet he found in a swamp.

Then I’d unplug. For real this time.

It was both exhilarating and deeply concerning how quickly I fell back into the rhythm of infinite connectivity. Like an ex-smoker taking “just one puff” and waking up three days later surrounded by empty cigarette packs, I was back. Tabs open. Notifications buzzing. Brain firing on all cylinders, chasing the next thing.

The truth is, we need the internet. Not just for work, but for survival. It’s how we learn, how we communicate, how we pretend to be productive while actually watching a 47-minute documentary about a guy who lives with raccoons.

But let’s be honest—we’re also completely hooked. Junkies, all of us. Scrolling, clicking, consuming, refreshing. Caught in an endless cycle of content we don’t even remember seeking out in the first place.

Three days without the internet felt like an eternity. And yet… it also gave me a much-needed slap in the face about how much time I spend chasing the next hit of digital dopamine.

Maybe we all need to unplug now and then. Not because the internet is evil, but because sometimes, we forget what life feels like without it.

And let me tell you—life offline? It’s weird. It’s quiet. It’s oddly unsettling. But it’s also… kinda nice.

So, will I make unplugging a habit? Absolutely.

The Big Question: Could the Internet Ever Be Shut Down Forever?

That’s when it hit me.

What if the internet didn’t come back? Not just for me, but for everyone?

Could the entire internet be shut down?

Most people don’t think about this. But I do, because that’s my job. The internet seems permanent—like the sky. But it’s not. It’s vulnerable in ways that will make you clutch your WiFi router in fear.

Could someone—somewhere—flip a switch and make the entire internet disappear?

Buckle up. Because the answer might keep you awake at night.

The internet isn’t some magic cloud beaming memes into your brain. It’s a physical beast—miles of undersea cables, massive data centers, and satellites blasting signals from space. At its core, DNS (Domain Name System) acts as the internet’s phone book, keeping everything from spiraling into chaos. But could all of this just… vanish?

How to Kill the Internet (At Least Temporarily)

1. Government Blackouts – The Big Brother Method

Governments already pull the plug. Egypt, Myanmar, India—all have shut down the internet to control information, crush dissent, or stop protests. A few calls to Internet Service Providers (ISPs) and entire cities go dark.

2. Cyberattacks – The Digital Doomsday

A massive attack on DNS servers could break the web’s infrastructure. In 2016, a DDoS attack took down Twitter, Netflix, and PayPal. But a full internet blackout? Tougher. Backups of backups exist.

3. Cutting the Cables – The Real-World Hack

Undersea internet cables can be severed. It’s happened before—accidental ship damage has cut off entire regions. A coordinated attack? That could cripple global connectivity.

4. Solar Storms – The Cosmic Reset Button

The Carrington Event of 1859 fried telegraphs. A modern version? Satellites fried, grids down, total blackout.Scientists say it’s not if, but when.

The Seven Key Holders – Internet Illuminati?

ICANN, the body managing DNS security, has seven people holding special keys. They meet in secretive “key ceremonies” to keep the system secure. Can they shut down the internet? Nope. They safeguard it, but don’t control it. No kill switch, no internet overlords.

Could the Internet Be Gone Forever?

To truly erase the internet, you’d need global catastrophe—nuclear war, planetary blackout, or a Bond villain space laser. Even then? We’d rebuild. Satellite internet, mesh networks—humans are too dependent on connectivity.

Final Verdict: Temporary shutdowns? Absolutely. Permanent extinction? Unlikely. The internet evolves, rebuilds, adapts—a digital phoenix rising from the ashes of its own source code.

So, relax. The internet isn’t going anywhere.

Now go clear your browser history. Just in case.

For more on this topic, take a deep dive:

Coming soon:

Until we meet again, let your conscience be your guide.